Give And Take
by damnitjane
Summary: When an unexpected problem arises, Jane sets out to make it right, leading Lisbon and himself to set things right.


**The Giver and The Taker**

**Jisbon One-Shot**

**Set 2 months after Blue Bird**

**Rated a "soft" M**

* * *

He reached down and slapped the tire with the palm of his hand. He knew it wouldn't help the situation, but it made him feel better nonetheless. He looked back down the rural road behind him and was cursing himself for thinking he could make it down the gravelled and uneven road. The ruptured tire falling off the rim wasn't his only problem. He had lifted the punctured tire off in hopes of changing it, but there was no spare. He threw the jack he was using down on to the dry, cracked ground and groaned.

"I think I remember telling you _not_ to turn on to this road," Lisbon told him, walking around to stand behind him. "Not only are we stuck here, we are lost!"

He turned and watched Lisbon turn to survey where they were. He followed her gaze, but like her, all he could see were landscapes clear back for miles, no houses or people in sight. Of course, she was right. She had told him that taking a back road when they were already lost wasn't such a good idea.

"I think we can establish that I am at fault," he admitted, turning back to the tire and kicking it with his foot. "Do you have any signal on your phone?" he asked, pulling his phone from his pocket and frowning. "I don't."

"I don't, either," she answered. "I guess we won't get much out here in Stick Ville."

He was internally kicking himself for not having an extra tire for the Airstream, but he hadn't been bothered to check when he bought it because the price was dirt cheap to begin with. Now, here he was, stuck in an unfamiliar area with no spare tire and a grumpy Lisbon. Not that he didn't blame her for being pissed off, but she wasn't helping the situation any by being utterly grumpy.

"Come on," he told her, pointing to the Airstreams door. "No sense in being out here in the heat standing around."

"If you had only listened to me, we wouldn't be 'standing around'!" she replied tartly. She crossed her arms and looked at him reproachfully.

He rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. He knew she wouldn't let it go, and she was now sulking about it. Of course, lovers quarrels were common, and this had been the only hiccup (if you can call it that). Lisbon was authoritarian, and there was no pretending that it didn't cause issues between them, but they were always resolved with the heat of the night and the fire between the sheets. Submission was always a tool Jane was good at getting from Lisbon. When sweat poured from them in the silk of the bed sheets, she gave in to him always, requesting more and relinquishing power to him completely. But this kind of Lisbon, this grumpy version, was unshakable.

"So, you're going to sit out here in this blistering heat and wait for a miracle?" he asked her sarcastically. "Come on, I'll make you a cup of tea."

"I am going to see if I can get a signal on my phone," she told him, holding up her cell. "Unless this silver bucket is equipped with GPS?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and started walking up the hill in front of the Airstream, holding up her cell phone to the sky as if that would actually work. Jane knew it did in movies, but this wasn't a movie. He shook his head once more and ascended the trailer steps, disappearing into the trailer and slamming the door behind him. Immediately, he went to the sink and pulled back the curtains so he could see her profile in the heated sunlight of the afternoon. Her profile still gave him the shivers. He loved everything about her: the way her hair fell at her shoulders, the way she crinkled her nose, the way she gazed at him and bit her lip…Oh! How her biting her lip drove him insane. He watched as she placed a hand in the back pocket of her jeans and lifted her phone once more to the sky, grabbing a tea-cup from the cupboard without lifting his eyes from her. He watched her turn gracefully toward him, and his eyes fell to the lips he remembered so fondly kissing for the first time two months ago. He had been foolish and selfish and he had almost lost her for it. He still hated himself for letting her almost slip away.

"Caught a bee with honey," he murmured, turning to grab the teapot from under the cabinet.

He had just lifted the pot to fill it in the tap when he heard it. At first, he thought it was a bird of some kind. The shrillness of it caught him off guard. It wasn't until he heard a muffled "ouch!" that he knew it was Lisbon. Throwing the pot into the sink and letting the water run, he hurried to the door and threw it open, bounding down the stairs and looking around.

"Teresa!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. "TERESA?!"

At first he didn't see anything. Then here was a faint, muffled cry from his right. He turned and could see Lisbon sprawled on the ground, her hands on her shin of her right leg. Her phone had skidded a few feet in front of her, and she was in clear pain from the look on her face.

"Teresa!" he exclaimed, running over to where she lay and kneeling beside her in the dirt. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"My ankle!" she breathed in pain. "I think it's broken."

"Did you fall?" he asked, taking his hands and lightly pressing the ankle, where she cried out in pain at the touch.

"The damn jack," she answered, pointing a shaking thumb behind her at the jack sitting where Jane had thrown it earlier. "I tripped over it."

"It's not broken, thank God," Jane told her, pressing above the ankle, which was now turning a light shade of purple and the swelling was beginning. "It's just severely sprained. Let's get you inside. Can you walk?"

"Yeah," Lisbon said, attempting to roll herself into a standing place and crying out in pain. "No."

Jane stood, reached down and gently scooped Lisbon into his arms, careful about her ankle. The familiar warmth of her made his heart jump as he carried her across the gap of dirt, and he managed to get the door open with one hand and make his way inside. He laid her gently on the couch (because it was closer than where he wanted to take her, which was the bedroom), and knelt to remove her shoes and socks.

"Be careful," she told him, wincing in pain as her boot slid from her swelling ankle and her sock followed. "Does it look bad?"

"Well," he told her, "I think it might need amputated, Teresa. It's just awful."

He chuckled and Lisbon groaned.

"It's swollen already, but it will heal."

He reached under the couch and pulled out a drawer which contained the first aid kit and brought it out, opening it and selecting the small ACE bandage from inside. Carefully, as to not cause too much more discomfort, he bandaged her ankle and took off her other shoe and sock. He gave her two pain medication pills to cut the swelling and pain and stood to throw away the plastic the bandage was housed in. He reached over and turned the tap off before returning to kneel once more beside her.

"Show me your right hand," he commanded gently. He reached back into the first aid kit and rummaged around.

"What for?" she asked irritably, but did it anyway, jutting her hand out in front of her.

She watched as he took Hydrogen Peroxide out of the kit, and sat it beside him on the floor. He reached up and gathered her fingers and flexed her palm up to get a better look at it. He reached down with his free hand and expertly opened the bottle. He once again rummaged through the kit and found a cotton ball. She watched him work, laying the cotton ball on top of the peroxide bottle and placing a finger over the cotton to hold it in place as he lifted the bottle and shook it.

"You have a few scrapes on your hand, Teresa," he told her, concern lacing the undertone of irritation at her still-grumpy attitude. "I want to clean them out."

She said nothing as he took the cotton ball and lifted it to her wounds. She gasped at the burning that ripped through her palm. Jane looked up at her, watching her face contort in discomfort. His hand let go of hers and came up to caress her cheek.

"I'm sorry. I know it burns," he told her, his thumb ghosting over her jaw line. "It stops infection and cleans the cuts."

"I know that," she replied. There was only a hint of irritation there now. It was replaced by what Jane liked to think was tenderness.

"Good," he told her. "The other hand, please."

She released her right hand and showed him her left, which had a few scrapes as well. He cleaned them for her and set to work putting away the kit. He couldn't help but notice that he was so close to her that he could see the freckled skin just below her collar. It was something he loved to see. And even though she was irritated with him, he'd love to see more of it. The closeness of her was tempting, and he lingered putting away the kit. Finally, he cleared his throat, stood, and turned back to make the tea he abandoned earlier.

"I'm sorry about leaving the jack out for you to trip over," he finally said after what seemed like years of silence in the trailer. "It was careless of me."

"Yes," she agreed, "it was."

He turned to look at her and wasn't surprised to see her stony expression back. Lisbon rarely gave in. The bedroom was the only time she caved and became putty to which he could mold himself. But he was getting tired of this. He didn't mean to get lost and he didn't mean to flatten the tire and he sure as hell didn't mean for her to get hurt. She was pissed off at him for not listening, but she was taking it too far. He had already admitted fault, so why was she so perturbed by him still?

"You're being needlessly grumpy," he finally told her, setting the tea-pot back down and crossing his arms. "I admit it. I got us into this situation," he told her, "but you are keeping it going."

"You don't-"

Lisbon never got to finish what she was going to say because Jane had closed the gap quickly and bent down and pushed his mouth to hers. Wrapping his lips around hers, he forced her to open and feel the heat from him. Caught off guard, Lisbon opened her mouth a bit. It was enough for Jane to force her lips open with his tongue. Lisbon didn't fight it. Instead, she responded with the same fervor, her hand coming up in an automatic gesture to flatten against his chest, knotting the cotton material of his shirt in her palm. She felt the burn, Jane had no doubt, but she didn't seem to care. There was a burning in another place that overtook her; brought her to the very depths of fire and spit her out.

He just wanted to make her understand how sorry he really was, and how he hated when she was upset with him and hated when she was cross with him. How else was he going to finally get her to submit to him? Using his words? It didn't get him anywhere so far. He would quiet her with what he knew she would give him: love. The one thing Lisbon always let him do, no matter how upset she was with him, was please her…tease her into submitting to what he wanted and it always put her in a good mood afterward. He knew the right button to push, you could say.

He was careful about her ankle, making sure to stay clear of it. He felt Lisbon sit up and try to press herself even harder into him, but the awkward position he was kissing her in made that nearly impossible, and her ankle didn't exactly make it easier. Jane's eyes darted quickly to the open bedroom door a few feet away and back to her again. Lisbon broke the kiss long enough to whisper three words into his ear:

"Take me there."

Jane didn't hesitate. Gently, he lifted her up into his arms, where she clutched around his neck, and he walked back to the bedroom door slowly. Softly, he tossed her on the bed and he watched as she scooted up as much as she could. Jane turned and shut the door and then came to kneel at the end of the bed, his eyes a smoldering smoke of blue haze. He slowly ascended the length of the bed until he was hovering over her. She bent up to catch his lip in her teeth.

"Are you sure your ankle can handle this?" he asked, his brow going up in an amusing arch. "It's swollen pretty good."

"Don't be so rough on the rest of me and it should be fine," she replied, reaching up for the buttons on Jane's cotton floral patterned shirt. "A little rattling won't kill it."

"I won't be gentle," he told her truthfully. "Nothing's gentle with you."

"Why?"

"Damned if I know," he said, feeling the last shirt button fall and her hands on his chest.

He bent down to kiss the side of her neck, his hands fumbling in the dark for her shirt buttons. His shirt was easier to get off, while hers took a little finagling. Finally, after a few tries, her shirt slid easily from her torso, and she shook out of it and threw it on the floor.

"Straps," he said, bringing his hand up to palm over her breasts. "How they slow me down."

He lifted the cups from her pink flesh and the feel of his rough palms over her nipples caused her back to arch slightly and her breath to quicken. He deliberately dragged his thumbs over each nipple as he pushed the bra up and over her head. The sensation was like a wave rippling over her body; her torso planted firmly to the mattress and her butt sinking hard into it and then slowly rising up only to crash again on to the springs below. Jane threw the bra on to the floor without looking and let his hands rake over her breasts once more and feel her ribs and caress over her belly.

"The straps are worth it just for that," she replied breathlessly, her hands fingering the biceps of his arms, drawing lazy circles around the muscles. "But your hands should be commended, too."

He undid her jeans, sitting up enough to gently wiggle them over her swelling ankle and drop them into the darkness of the floor. He pulled her panties down and got rid of them, too, the cotton flung over the bed and disappearing. Normally, he would use a sexy means to remove the panties, but her ankle didn't allow for that. Instead, he'd make it up to her in other ways.

He knew she could feel the hardness between them, and he didn't know how much of the foreplay he could get through without wanting to take her wildly. He didn't want to skip much of it, because it pleasured her and she loved it, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to control himself. He felt her arms travel down to the fly of his pants, and he knew he was in trouble. He reached her lips with his own and kissed her hard, his lips moving from her lips to the corners of her mouth and then traveling down her neck. His hands stopped momentarily at her cross necklace, his thoughts wondering if it was a mortal sin to wear a cross when doing activities such as this, but he quickly felt her shudder beneath him, and the thought was gone as quickly as it had come. He could feel her pull at the button and could hear the drag of his zipper as it exposed him. He felt her fumble in his boxers, and her hands found the hardness. He quickly gathered her hands together at the wrist, pulling them from his pants and raised them above her head back on to the headboard above her.

"Not yet," he told her, deep and hungry. "You first."

His lips found her breasts in the dark, and his teeth nipped at the buds, causing Lisbon to moan loudly in what he assumed was a mixture of pain and pleasure, and he kept on traveling down her body, kissing whatever he came in contact with: her ribs, her belly and the cleft between her legs. He heard her cry out as his teeth pulled and his tongue explored. He didn't know if it was her ankle causing her pain, or what he was doing causing her pleasure, but she was panting and gasping and her body shuttered loudly by the time be made it back up to kiss her on the lips.

"Ladies first," he said simply, releasing her hands.

"I like that rule," she told him. "One rule you do follow." She laughed.

Jane bent down to take off his shoes and wool socks, and discard his pants and boxers onto the floor with the other clothing, and turned back to her, his gaze falling into her green eyes. They were nose-to-nose with each other, facing each other on their sides. His hand came up to move a stray bit of hair from her face, and his hand fell to her shoulder.

"What about you?" Lisbon asked.

"Hmm?"

"Isn't it your turn?"

"Ah, that," he whispered softly, his hand falling from her shoulder to her bare hip. "I'm more of a giver than a taker, Teresa."

She smiled at him and nodded her head. She was a taker, herself, he knew. She'd give if he wanted her to, and if she wasn't injured, he might have let her. But the fact was, he rather give than take. He always gave as much as he could and took less. He wanted to please her, and he pleased himself by being with her…being in her.

"Can you face the other direction, Teresa? On your ankle, I mean?" He asked, kissing the tip of her nose.

She moved, gingerly, so that her body was facing away from him. She could feel him spooning behind her, his hardness poking at the back door gently. She felt a hand on her arm as he lifted her leg slightly in the air. After a moment, she felt him push into her, burrowing deep inside. She whined a little.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, stopping in mid-movement. "Did I hurt you?"

"It's the ankle," she explained. "It's okay."

He hesitated a moment before starting his rhythm of soft thrusts at first. He could hear her breath hitch higher and higher as he went faster and faster, thrusting deep and hard into her. He was trying to be as gentle as he could, but there was nothing he could do. Primal urge took over and his speed and rhythm quickened automatically with each moan and gurgle she made. Her hand came back to rest on his bare hip as he rode faster, the sweat stirring between their bodies. He could feel the tremble of her walls start to contract, and he knew she was close to coming. He, himself, was nearly there. He could see the light and feel the pull. Together, as if it happened all the time, they came. Lisbon lie there trembling and trying to catch her breath and he lie there kissing her shoulder and panting. He pulled out of her and she turned back to face him once more, her face sweaty and gleaming.

"How's your ankle?" he asked her softly, pressing her close to him and wrapping his arms around her.

"It's like I don't even remember what happened to it," she laughed, snuggling into his chest. "It's fine."

"We better try to find some cell service," Jane told her. "Abbott will have our asses."

"Let's stay here a while," she told him, drawing circles with her fingertip on his chest. "He'll understand."

There was silence and then both started laughing uproariously.

"No," Jane laughed, "he won't."

It wasn't until two hours later that they finally got some cell reception a quarter of a mile down the road from where they had broken down. Jane had left Lisbon to get dressed as he walked the length it took to get a bar, and called Abbott, who sent Cho to retrieve them and a tow truck to get the Airstream. They got a lift back to the FBI headquarters an hour later. Fielding questions about what happened to the trailer and Lisbon's ankle, Abbott seemed satisfied and let the matter rest. The best part about all of it was Lisbon was no longer grumpy. Jane knew how to make the irritability go away. Abbott had once asked what his secret was to changing Lisbon's mood, but Jane merely laughed and told him that you just had to know how to handle Lisbon.

And handle her he did.


End file.
